Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 31 October 1948 — Page 33

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Features. ....Page 37

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Movies ......Page 46 |

Eisenhower A Woman Tells the Inside Story of Gen. lke, Our Allied Commander, at War

INSTALLMENT | AS I STARTED to write this story, I had to face certain ugly facts. I know many readers will see it as bad taste, bragging that I was “Girl Fri-

day" to Gen. Dwight Eisenhower. Others will claim that I'm cashing in, capitalizing upon an experience which reglly was no more than my war job, let alone a million-to-one ticket I drew in the vast lottery of war. And some will conclude that only one of Gen. Eisenhower’s intimates hasn't written a book: Telek, his Scottie dog, now asleep at my feet. But I well know that I do have a story that hasn't been told yet, for I saw the conduct of an unprecedented war from a point. never before available in history: That of a woman. “ I was aide and secretary to the Supreme Allied Commander. In effect, I was secretary to the war. All of which implies a certain duty in reporting the war as I saw it— as no general, no male aide, no soldier, no correspondent could ever see it. )

» » ~ SECONDLY, I will paint a verbal portrait, however clumsy, of Dwight D. Eisenhower. Various artists have painted him in statistics, in logistics, in diary, in news cables, in photographs, even in oils. Few of these professionals have really known him as a person; certainly none has understood him as a member of the opposite sex. That's a third reason this book seems necessatly. War always has been an exclusively male horror. I saw it as both spec-

tator and participant in the innermost royal circles, for four years, beside the Supreme Commander. Yet I saw it all more with ears and heart than with eyes—female ears and heart. So this volume is no attempt at preserving history or analvzing strategy. It's only the story of a quite average young woman wiao stumbled into the highest hierarchy of war. It is, in a way, a report to women, other women. :

iX i hi .'l had never heard of Gen. Eisenhower’ In a secret English cottage, in Louis XV stables, In a private railway carriage, in jeeps, planes and the rear seat of a dozen staff cars. I was to progress from a little Irish moppet to. “Capt. Kay Summersby, Army of the United States,” the first skirted five-star aide in American military history. I was to work and eat and ride and laugh and drink and play and suffer with the famous commander of a multi-nationed army. Yes, I was to meet and know such historic generals as Patton, Montgomery, Bradley and Spaatz; Sokolovsky, Zhukof, Clay and Clark. I was to meet a reporter's dream assortment of front-page characters: President Roosevelt, Air Chief Marshal Tedder, Count Bernadotte, Bing Crosby, Eleanor Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Bob Hope, Charles De Gaulle, Molotov, Ernie Pyle, etc., etc. . ” . I WAS to be rescued from a torpedoed ship in the Mediterranean, bundled off to Moscow without a passport, ordered to a rest cure on the Riviera. I was to be-—quite literally—courted and slandered. : That last word brings me to a fifth and very feminine reason for this book. As a young woman, blessedly unburdened with

Kay Summersby . . . saw the war from the innermost royal circles

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1948 ¢

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This is the first of 36 installments of “lke Was My Boss,” which will be published in The Dally and Sunday Times,

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pool since 5:30. waiting-in moods as gray as the early-morning fog outside. The other half of my disappointment came from snobbery. An Army driver's prestige is based solely on the rank of the uniform in the back seat, So I had hoped to get Gen. George Marshall or Gen. (Hap) Arnold. Both were in this group, we knew, Both were known to all of us by name and reputation; either would be a bright feather in a driver's cap. But Sheila and Betty had them. Sheila was one of those nonchalant, likeable girls to whom everything seemed to come easily, without struggle or effort. Betty was a proud redhead who used plenty of thought and effort to make absolutely certain everything came her way. And, intimating that I had nobody, Betty lost no time in whispering she was picking up a three-star general. She said it in such 4 way I could almost feel wrinkles fn my face, braces on my teeth, - » " I TURNED apprehensively to Sheila. “Surely, “you've heard of Gen. Eisenhower?” As an American (married to an English officer from Sandhurst) she was my only hope.

tably, there ‘were some ridiculous (although hurtful) smears on my reputation. But I guess that's part of the game. Anyhow, .all these are the reasons why I'm peeling off my traditional British reserve and stripping down to naked truth.

» . # A TRIP-TICKET and a two-block ride changed my entire life. The place was wartime London: The time, May of 1942. And I saw nothing special or miraculous about the ticket. It merely noted that I, as a civillan Army driver, was to pick up a passenger at Paddington Station. He was listed as a “Maj. Gen. Eisenhower.” > I had never heard of the general. And, quite frankly, 1 was doubly disappointed in the assignment. Ei Half of the disappointment was natural, Five of us drivers had waited around American Army headquarters three days, to pick up a packet of Very Important Persons due in from the United States via Scotland. The first two mornings we staggered down to the motor pool at 5:30 a. m. And we stayed there until dark both .times, only to be finally advised that the weather still held all. London-bound

By Kay Summershy

ho. ” » I SAW A great war directed from a Norman apple orchard, in palatial hotel suites from London to Algiers, in Nissen huts, in freezing tents, in No. 10 ‘Downing 8t.,, in the Pentagon, in a German general's headquarters, in a Berlin schoolhouse,

= PICTURE STORY BY :VICTOR PETERSON

ON THEIR OWN—With mother out visiting, Har"ris Wood and son, Michael Lee, 309 N. LaSalle St. (upper left), settle down for an ev@ningvtogether. "Nothing to Lit," Mr. Wood mused. "Just follow. a routine as child psychiatrists suggest. A story and then off to dreamland. It's that simple" . . .

WELL, OK THIS TIME—A fellow can't go to bed thirsty, so Mr. Wood (next picture) grants just one request. That's perfectly legitimate, according to doctors specializing in youth problems. But here's a red light that all is not well. Either the child feels insecure in his parents’ love or he fears desertion, say psychiatrists. Read on ..

BECOMING A RACKET—"Enough of this foolishness," Mr. Wood warns. "But | don't want to take a chance on an accident," he compromises. If one or both parents are going to spend an evening out, the child should be told well in advance. Alsq, fathers should take an active part in a child's life so he will be a loved one, not be a visitor, So the thingtodois . . .

STICK TO DECISIONS — That's just what Mr, Wood doesn't do. Often it is much easier to give in than back up an order of, "No more." Inconsistency breeds insecurity in a child just as does failure of parents to show visible affection for each other or the child, Until the child falls to sleep, he must carry a mental image of his parents, The image should be one

of warmth and love,

crossed. eyes or gaping teeth, I naturally. had my moments of downright fun during the war. In addition, I was an obvious sidedoor to the Supreme Commander's mental apartment. So I undoubtedly had more than my share of male attention, which, in turn, begets female attention. Inevi-

planes at Preswick Airport. - » » » THIS MORNING, it looked as though the Brass

“Eisenhower?” Sheila thought a moment, “Eisenhower? Never heard of him.” “Here they come!” The shout pulled us all aut had abandoned their original plan. They were of our cars . . . and out of our gloom. All we coming on down to London by train, Just when, could see was the tall figure of Ambassador no one knew. We had been jailed in the motor Winant and, beside him, Maj. Gen. Chaney, the

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»

UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER—Routed, Mr. Wood (lower left) sleeps in his chair while Mike plays uninhibited. But M

love never,

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"a bizarre submarine mission to the enemy soil of

A 'Different' View °° On Greatest World Conflict

only Yank general in London, (Colonels were real “rank” in those days.) Someone identified Gen. Marshall; we all recognized him from newss paper photos. We also managed to pick out Gen, Arnold and Mr. Harry Hopkins, : “One of those fellows must be your Gen. Eisen= hower,” Sheila said, pointing shamelessly. All I could see was a mass of uniforms and much handshaking. There seemed to be three major generals in the group. . . . : THE SIX V-I-P's walked away from thele special track, moving toward the line of autome- . bilés. “Wp ran to our staff cars, opened the doors *... and tried to stand at soldierly attention. They all climbed into Ambassador Winant's car,’ It rumbled off in important haste, leaving a procession of five empty staff cars attended by five lonely and very angry drivers. That was my first “meeting” with Gen. Eisene hower. : I followed the others back ‘to headquarters, hardly impressed by the name of Eisenhower. At our motor pool office the beefing was as bad as earlier, In fact, it was worse: we had orders to wait around for further instructions. That was at 9 o'clock. By.1 p. m. I was starved. No one else would risk it, so I went out alone to have tea and a sandwich. r ~ » COMING BACK to Grosvenor Square, I noe ticed with alarm that things were happening. The other cars were pulling out. Mine was the last in line; the one just ahead already was halfway down - the street. Two officers were walking toward my khaki-colored Packard. They were nondescript, although one was taller than the other. Both wore two stars on each shoulder. The smaller general, I noticed, had nice broad shoulders. I rushed up, completely confused. Finally I looked from one to the other and puffed, “I'm Gen, Eisenhower's driver. Are you looking for me?” The shorter general nodded, his full face break« ing into a grin destined to spread across half the world’s newspapers, “I'm Gen, Eisenhower. This is Gen. Clark. We would like to go to Claridge’s, please.” I drove them there without incident. As they got out, Gen. Eisenhower remarked, “Thank you, Tomorrow at nine, please.” . . ~ I HAD DRIVEN them exactly two blocks, after waiting three days for that trip. Then, I had no feeling oné way or the other about Gen. Eisenhower or Gen, Clark. If there was any reaction, it wasn’t exactly cordial. After all, I had crawled out of bed at 5:30 three mornings in a row-—to drive these Yanks exactly two city blocks. But in-that May of 1042 there was no hint that the smiling general ‘would beécomé our Bupremse Commander, that his quiet companion would lead

North Africa. To me they were only temporal passengers, in London for a 10-day ‘visit. 53 TOMORROW: Kay has lunch with the generals,

rs. Wood has come home and is by the sight greeting her eyes. Wisely, she and Mr; Wicod do not argue over the situation, or what to do with-Mike, in the child's presence. Furthermore, hold difficulties:never should be brought to the dinner table. So Mike is showered with love (lower right). This is what every youngster needs from both chiatrists say that in.the business of love there is no such thing as too much. Love antl indulgence are confused by many parents, Material over-indulgence wil

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